


Morning After

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, F/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 12:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5868799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke starts having casual sex, which means Bellamy gets to meet a lot of random people who stagger into the kitchen before she wakes up. But Clarke has pretty good taste in one-night stands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HawthorneWhisperer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/gifts).



> Hawthornewhisperer pointed out that there needed to be fics about Bellamy and Niylah making friends after Clarke hooked up with her, and we all know I'm all about that life.

Bellamy doesn't really mean to start talking to Clarke's hookups. 

If he's honest, he wasn't really ever expecting Clarke to _have_ hookups. She never has before. They've been friends for three years and roommates for four months when the first one shows up, some guy with dark hair and wary eyes, who looks at Bellamy like he thinks Bellamy might start a fight.

"Roommate," he says, with a small wave. "You want some coffee? She usually doesn't wake up before ten on weekends."

The guy relaxes, but only marginally. "No, uh, thanks. I'm just gonna--"

He jerks his head toward the door, and Bellamy raises the carton of milk he's holding in acknowledgement.

Clarke staggers out of her room an hour later, her hair a mess, her glasses crooked on her face. She doesn't look particularly well-fucked, which is a shame; the guy was pretty hot, it would be nice if Clarke had a good time.

The two of them moved in together because Clarke's relationship with her girlfriend exploded, and Clarke was suddenly alone in her two-bedroom apartment and, honestly, kind of miserable. She could have afforded to live alone, but no one really thought it would be good for her. Bellamy's lease expired around the same time, so he asked if she was willing to get rid of her study and live with him, and she'd agreed with the kind of small, rueful smile that let him know she knew exactly what he was up to.

They get each other; it's part of why he wanted to move in with her in the first place. And he thinks he's helping, mostly. He's definitely not hurting. And maybe the hookups will help too. That would be nice. Maybe casual sex will be her thing. If she can find a guy who's better in bed than that guy was.

"Morning," she says, putting her feet up on the coffee table when she sits next to him with her cereal and coffee. "What are you playing?"

"The Witness," he says. "Just started." He glances over at her, and then says, "I don't really care if you have people stay over, but text me or something? So I have a head's up."

She pauses, nods. "Sorry. It was kind of--I didn't plan it."

"I know. It's cool. Just--next time? If there's a next time?"

"I think there might be," she says, soft. "Sometimes."

He nudges his foot against hers on the coffee table. "Hey, I don't care. All I want is a text. And maybe tell them you've got a roommate, I think the guy this morning thought you were cheating on me with him and I was gonna try to kick his ass."

Clarke laughs. "Awkward."

"Right?" He wets his lips, can't help asking, "Did it help?"

She shrugs. "I've had better. But--it was a good first step, I guess." She takes a big bite of cereal. "Tell me what you're doing in your game," she says, and he doesn't ask again.

*

It is pretty infrequent at first, maybe one a month, and she always texts, and no one else is ever surprised to see him at the dining room table in the morning, so she must be warning them about his existence too. Sometimes they accept coffee from him, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they'll chat a little. Bellamy's not exactly an outgoing guy, but he's decent at diffusing awkward situations, and he's done the awkward morning after more than once, so he basically knows what it's like from the other side.

The worst is when the hookup waits for Clarke, not realizing that Clarke is a disaster in the morning, and she grunts unhelpfully over cereal at them until they give up and leave.

Mostly, though, they don't even stay for coffee, it's not a big deal, and Bellamy frets, just a little, because--it's getting more frequent, and he doesn't like that for Clarke. It's her call, of course, and he's never going to tell her that she can't hook up, he just--he'd like to see her trying to date again. Clarke's the kind of person who should have someone who makes her happy, in a long-term sense, and he's still sometimes pissed that Finn and Lexa did such a number on her, somehow convinced her that relationships always end badly. He never got all the details, doesn't want to push, but he knows that's bullshit, and he knows that Clarke could be happy, with the right person.

He doesn't mean to tell Octavia this, but he's kind of drunk and Clarke has just texted, _Bringing a girl home in like twenty, fyi_ , so he starts rambling. Mostly accidentally.

"You know she's single, right?" Octavia asks, unimpressed. "And none of these constitute relationships?"

Bellamy frowns at her. "Yeah, of course I know. That's what I'm saying."

"I meant, you could just _ask her out_. I know you were trying to work up to it when she started dating Lexa."

He frowns into his glass, because--okay, he kind of was. He liked Clarke, and he would have been interested in--well, that was kind of where he stalled out. He has dated people before, but he doesn't tend to date people who are in his friend group. It felt weird to ask Clarke out on a date, like he'd never met her before, like they didn't hang out all the time already. Asking her out felt so fucking _stupid_ , because he wouldn't know the first thing about dating her. He wanted to skip ahead three months and curl up on the couch with her in his arms, make out and have sex and--

And then she'd gotten a girlfriend, and that was that. 

"Yeah, I'm over it," he says, finishing off his beer.

"Uh huh," says Octavia. "Which is why you have so many opinions on her number of one-night stands."

"Hey, good for her," he says. "If I thought it was making her happy, I'd be thrilled. But--"

"Seriously, do you listen when you talk?" Octavia asks. "Yeah, okay, Clarke's not happy, she needs an awesome relationship with someone who understands her. Fine. Are you really telling me you don't think you could be that guy? That you aren't picturing _yourself_ when you're talking about _the kind of person Clarke should be with_?" She makes finger-quotes, just to rub it in. Bellamy hates his sister sometimes.

"I don't--" he starts, and rubs his face. "There are all kinds of people who would be good for her."

"Uh huh. And would you?"

"I know her pretty well," he says, not looking at his sister, staring at the bar instead. "We get along. But it's not about that. It's about her. I just--I'm worried about her. That breakup hit her hard, and I want her to feel better. If I thought this was really helping, I'd be throwing a parade."

Octavia bites her lip. "Have you talked to her?"

"Haven't figured out how yet," he admits. "Trying to strike the right balance. Get across that I'm worried without sounding like I'm policing her sex life. Which I'm not. Her sex life is fine. It's just--"

"It can be both, Bell." She actually sounds gentle and worried, which freaks him out _every time_. Mockery is fine, expected, and embraced; concern makes him feel guilty and itchy.

"I'll check in with her soon," he says. "Roommate night. We can get drunk and talk about girls. It'll be fun."

She sighs. "Sure. Do that. Sounds good." She gestures to the bartender for another round, and changes the subject gracefully.

It's pretty out-of-character for her; he must look really freaked out.

*

He's working on the crossword when the girl comes into the kitchen the next morning. She's blonde, sharp-featured and pretty, and she raises her eyebrows when she sees him.

"Roommate," he supplies. "Bellamy."

"Nice to meet you," she says. "Niylah." She leans over his shoulder. "Is that today's?"

"Yeah." He remembers he's sort of a host and offers her a smile. "There's coffee in the pot if you want some, cereal in the cabinet over the fridge. If you want to cook in a virtual stranger's apartment, we've got eggs and--I dunno. Feel free to poke around the fridge."

Niylah snorts. "Did you write that speech out?"

"Practice makes perfect," he says, and winces, because--she definitely _knows_ she's a one-night stand, but he didn't have to imply he has this conversation all the time. Even if he kind of does.

But Niylah doesn't seem upset. She just opens up the fridge and looks around. "Do you have bread?"

"In the freezer, yeah. Why?"

"I'll make French toast if you let me help with your crossword."

"Deal," he says, and when Clarke staggers into the kitchen half an hour later, Bellamy and Niylah are seated side-by-side, leaning over the Saturday crossword, most of the way through it.

"There's French toast if you ask nicely," Bellamy tells her, when she blinks at them. "And coffee, obviously."

"Good morning," Niylah adds, with a pleasant smile.

Clarke makes a wary noise and goes over to the coffee machine to pour herself a giant mug, downing about half of it in one gulp. Bellamy tries not to smile. He's met people who aren't morning people before, but Clarke is on a whole different level.

"Should I feel proud that I wore her out?" Niylah asks him.

"Sorry, she's always shitty in the morning," he says, grinning at her. "But I'm sure you were great." 

"I was, thanks."

Clarke is glaring at them, and Bellamy turns up his smile, just for her. Niylah is cool. She knows sports and pop-culture trivia; he sucks at those. They're an awesome crossword team. "Did you want French toast?" he asks her.

She finishes her coffee, pours the rest of the pot into her mug, and starts another. "Yes," she says, grudging.

Niylah puts a few pieces of bread into the French toast batter for her, and Clarke scowls at the entire universe as Bellamy and Niylah finish up the crossword and then start the Friday one, for fun.

She ends up sticking around until three, and she and Bellamy exchange numbers before she goes.

"You know she's gay, right?" Clarke asks, folding her arms over her chest.

"I know. I'm not hitting on her. She's cool, though." He bumps his hip against hers. "Don't worry. You're still my favorite."

She laughs a little. "You're right, that was exactly what I was worried about." She sighs. "You aren't seriously going to hang out with her, are you? You have like five friends. You _never_ make friends."

"I definitely don't have five friends, you take that back," he says, with mock-offense, and Clarke laughs. "Why wouldn't I hang out with her?"

"She's my _one-night stand_. You've hated everyone I've ever dated."

"You date assholes," he says. It's a bad thing to say, he realizes, if he ever wants to have a conversation with her about how she should date more, so he flops down on the couch and boots up the PS4. "But you have pretty good taste in one-night stands, honestly. Why don't you date any of them?"

"You want me to date Niylah?"

"That would be fine, yeah." He wets his lips. "If you're having fun, that's cool. But--relationships are cool, too."

Her laugh is surprisingly harsh. "Don't tell me _you're_ going to lecture me about this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How long has it been since you broke up with Gina?"

Bellamy blinks, surprised. He and Gina had dated around when Clarke and Lexa started going downhill; she hadn't been around much, and he wasn't even sure she was aware he and Gina had been a thing. She'd had other stuff on her mind.

"It's been a while," he admits. "That doesn't mean I'm not--I'd date someone."

"So would I."

The whole thing feels a little weird, but he's not sure where to go with it, so he just says, "Good."

"Good," Clarke agrees.

It probably could have gone better.

*

Bellamy and Niylah are on the couch, playing Diablo III, when Clarke texts _I'm not coming home tonight, don't call the cops_.

He pauses the game to frown at his phone; Niylah raises her eyebrows. "What?"

"Clarke's not coming home. I'm gonna call, one sec." He gets off the couch and hits her number, listens to it ring for long enough he gets nervous before she finally picks up.

"Seriously?" she asks, sounding amused. "What did I tell you?"

"You're not the cops. What happened?"

"Nothing _happened_. I met a guy, I'm going to his place."

Bellamy freezes. "Why are you going to his place?"

"Well, when two people meet in a bar and wanna hook up, sometimes they decide--"

"Shut up. Why aren't you coming home? You don't know anything about this guy. Where does he live? Does he have roommates? Are you--"

She starts laughing. "Bellamy."

"I'm just saying. It's safer--"

"You have my number, you can call in the morning--"

"If he's going to murder you, he'll probably do it tonight. You'll be dead in the morning."

"He could murder me in our apartment."

"Yeah, but if you scream in our apartment, I'll come."

"So your concern is that you're not going to be able to fight my one-night stand if he turns out to be planning to murder me. Roommate," she hears Clarke say, presumably to the guy. "He wants us to go to my place."

"I know you can fight him too, but two is better than one. Safety in numbers."

"No, he's just overprotective," Clarke is saying, muffled. "It's--" She huffs and comes back to the phone. "Okay, seriously, don't call me when I'm out, you definitely scared that guy off. Remotely."

"Probably because he was planning to murder you. I caught him."

"I'm sure that's it." She sighs. "Is Niylah still there?"

"Yeah, she might fuck you if you want."

There's a pause and then she says, "It's weird."

He went into his room for the call, so Niylah probably can't hear him. "We're playing video games. I don't think she's hanging out with me as part of a long con to get you back or anything."

"It's just--it's weird that you like the people I like."

He frowns. "We have the exact same friend group, Clarke. I like most of the people you like."

"She's not in our friend group. She's--you're always so _nice_ to them. Do you know how nice I'd be if you brought girls home?"

"You're a dick to everyone before noon, so, yes, I know exactly how nice you'd be," he says. "Do you want me to send Niylah home before you get back?"

"No, it's fine. I'll get a cab. See you in like twenty."

"Sure. Uh, sorry. That was totally unintentional. The whole, uh--"

"No, I know. I'll see you soon."

When he goes back to sit with Niylah, she raises her eyebrows at him, and he quirks his mouth for half a smile. "Apparently I can remotely cockblock now. Guys don't like people suspecting they're going to murder people."

She's quiet for a minute and then says, "She talks about you a lot."

"Hm?"

"I don't know if she notices. But you're in all her stories. I didn't need her to tell me that she wasn't looking for more than one night with me. It's obvious."

He wets his lips. "Huh," is what he gets out.

"I thought _you'd_ noticed, but--" She shrugs. "Unpause, will you?"

"Yeah," he says, and when Clarke gets back, it feels pretty normal. It's true that Bellamy doesn't have a lot of friends, but Niylah is cool and he likes hanging out with her.

Clarke flops down next to him. "Hey, Niylah. Hey, dick."

"Hey," he says. "You can join up if you find a controller." 

"Nah, I'll watch," she says, and falls asleep half on his shoulder within about ten minutes.

"You should notice," Niylah says before she leaves, and all he can do is nod.

*

Clarke never asks him to come out with her when she wants to get laid; it took him a while to notice this, but he's trying to notice more. Niylah might have a point. And Octavia. And some of his other friends who give him weird looks about his life.

So when she says, "Hey, you want to get drunk?" the next Friday, he assumes it's a sign that she's not planning to get laid.

"Sure," he says, pulling himself off the couch. "You're lucky I like you so much. I already put on pajama pants."

"You don't have to get changed."

"Going to a bar in my pajamas is a level of giving up on life I haven't reached yet. Give it a couple months."

She comes out of the kitchen with two beers and hands him one. "I figured we could just get drunk in-house." She worries her lip. "I feel like I haven't seen you in a while."

It would be easy to play it off, because they live together, and they hang out, but at the same time, he knows exactly what she means. 

"Yeah," he says, and takes a long drink of beer. "Want to watch a movie?"

"Yeah."

It's about an hour in when she says, "I thought you'd be jealous."

"Hm?"

She shifts, looks down at the bottle in her lap. "I didn't know I was thinking it, I just--I'd be jealous, if you were bringing girls home, and I kind of thought you'd be a dick to them. You're a dick to everyone. And then you were nice and making _friends_ , and--" She drops her head back on the couch. "You're not supposed to be happy I'm hooking up."

He's had like a beer and half, so he's not really drunk, and she isn't either. Apparently, she just needed some liquid courage. "I wasn't. But I'm not gonna take that out on the people you're fucking. Or you. It's not--" He nudges his foot against hers. "That's such a fucking shitty plan, you know? Like everything can go wrong."

"It wasn't a _plan_ ," she protests. "I didn't really notice until you started hanging out with a girl I fucked."

"You fucked a cool girl." He lets himself look at her, the slight flush on her cheeks, the stubborn set of her jaw. "I was really stupid about the whole thing, if it makes you feel better. I ranted to O about how you should be in a happy relationship, and I tried to tell you that and I fucked it up." 

"No, I got that part."

"I think you should be in a happy relationship with me," he says, and it isn't even hard. It's just fucking _true_. "I think we could handle that."

"I think so too," she says, so soft he almost doesn't hear it. And then she grins at him. "You were jealous though, right?"

He laughs, can't help leaning in to press his mouth to hers for just a second. "No, I wasn't jealous of them. They didn't get what I wanted." 

He kisses her again, longer this time, and Clarke's arms come up around his neck. She's still smiling, and her mouth is warm and tastes like beer, which would be gross, if it wasn't _her_. If she wasn't opening up for him, kissing him deeper, pulling him closer. If he and Clarke weren't making out on their couch like fucking teenagers, smiling too hard to really get lost in it.

"If it helps, I was jealous of your girlfriend," he finally says, nudging her nose with his.

"I was jealous of your girlfriend too. I didn't really notice that either."

"Good job." He slides his hand into her hair, kisses her again. "So, we're doing this?"

" _This_?" she teases.

"We have a one-night thing, and then I leave while you're still trying to wake up--" She bites her shoulder, and he grins. "I love you," he says instead, because just because he's never quite let himself think it before, it doesn't mean it's not _true_. It's been true for a long time. "We're doing _everything_."

She laughs, soft, and kisses him softer. "I can live with everything."

*

Niylah comes out with them on Thursday, which seems to confuse everyone.

Murphy's the first one to bring it up, because Murphy is the friend they have who's willing to just come out and say, "Bellamy made friends with someone who fucked Clarke?"

"Niylah has really good taste in women," says Bellamy, shrugging. "I'm not gonna fault her for that."

"And he's fucking her now," Niylah points out, just as easy. "So it seems weird to hold a grudge against me for doing it first."

"And I'm awesome in bed," Clarke adds. "So, you know, I don't blame anyone for wanting to fuck me. Obviously no one else can anymore, so Niylah was smart to get in there when she did. She saw the opportunity and took it. Everyone else missed out."

Bellamy kisses her hair, and Murphy just sort of stares at them. "You guys are so fucking weird," he says, shaking his head, and Clarke bumps her shoulder against Bellamy's.

"Come on, Murphy," she says, grinning. "Jealousy is so unbecoming."


End file.
